


Us of 1985A

by Riachinko



Category: Back to the Future (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riachinko/pseuds/Riachinko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doc finds himself in the company of Marty from 1985A, and has to play the role of his alternate self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is meant to kind of take place between the time where Marty is in the Pleasure Paradise, getting knocked out and meeting 1985A!Lorraine, and when Doc finds Marty at the cemetery. I have a huge love for 1985A <3 So idk, I hope this is alright.

Doc makes his way through the streets of Hill Valley - stalking as many back alleys as possible - carefully avoiding a gang of vandals ripping down the road at eighty miles an hour, avoiding anyone he sees, really. Thankfully, human life doesn't seem particularly rampant here, at least at this hour. Instead of people, it's debris that litters the streets, and the autumn wind rustles dead leaves to the ground. He's never minded it before, but the darkness is unsettling here in this alternate 1985.

His mission first and foremost is to find Marty, and Doc believes that Biff Tannen's Pleasure Paradise may just be the place to start rooting around.

He's done as much research as possible before taking to the streets; according to a newspaper article he's found in the town's now-defunct public library, this 1985's Emmett Brown is supposed to be in an asylum. He determines to stay out of everyone's way lest he inspire a paradox; ducks behind a tree as he looks on at Biff's fortress, scouring the crowd of derelicts, gamblers and gangs for any sign of youth. He's got to find--

"Looking for me?"

A familiar voice calls playfully from behind him. Marty taps him on the shoulder and Doc spins around with a startled gasp.

"Marty!" Doc leans against the tree, relieved at first, but then bothered once again as he notices; "My god, what happened to your eye?"

Marty's left eye is distinctly reddish-purple, a bruise that wasn't an accident. The boy shrugs.

"Biff happened. _You_ know." He pauses, eyes Doc; stares at his lips just a little too long and darts a tongue across his own. "The guy's an asshole." 

Doc stares on in bug-eyed bewilderment as Marty reaches out to place his hands on Doc's chest, tangling a finger in the fabric of his button-up shirt. His hands are warm, but even more searing compared to the cool night breeze.

"I can't believe it," Marty's words come softly, but there's something snide about them too. "Did you break out or something? I sure missed you, you know."

The boy leans in, then, and tilts his head upwards. His grip on the man's shirt tightens and pulls at Doc's shoulders. His eyes are closed, his lips are slightly parted.

"M-Marty!?" Doc shutters, aghast.

The confusion in Doc's voice doesn't go unnoticed, and Marty breaks away with a murmur and a faint blush on his face evident even in the moonlight. They stare at each other, dumbfounded, for seconds that seem like hours. This boy isn't _his_ Marty. This boy smells like cigarettes and has mussed hair and a black eye to match his black Van Halen t-shirt.

"That's cool, Doc..." Marty finally says, eyes snaking their way ever downwards, as he rubs his right arm to keep away the chill. "You probably wanna go back to the lab, huh? C'mon."

Marty looks back towards Biff's Pleasure Paradise with suspicious eyes, wild with teenage rebellion. When he's satisfied with whatever it is, he takes the older man's hand and tugs him away from the tree with a bit of force, back down the street in the direction from which Doc has just come, stepping in the same mud and kicking the same leaves. He feels uneasy, detaches his hand from Marty's. The boy gives him a cock-eyed stare, looks him up and down, eyebrows furrowing.

" _Doc_?"

Doc looks back at the casino and sputters in protest as his heart sinks, but what's he going to tell the boy, really? That he can't go with him because he needs to find another Marty and set things right with the timeline that _he's_ from before their lives are compromised? That as soon as he does, _this_ Marty will fail to even exist? That's some pretty heavy stuff to lay on a guy, after all.

In the end, it  _is_ what he should say, but instead he replies dumbly with, "What if someone sees us?"

Marty grins and grabs Doc's hand again as he walks on. He puts his free hand to his mouth confidentially, and loudly whispers, "We're not that much of a secret."

 

*******************

 

The streets are mercifully quiet, and Marty leads them through as many off-road shortcuts as he can in order to avoid the police and Biff's gangs. Shortcuts that Doc never even knew existed; isn't sure they actually do in his timeline. There are a lot of torn-down fences, mazes of cars and bonfire pits in the streets. Most of the properties have boarded-up windows and the majority don't have so much as a porch light on. It's a bit of a spooky atmosphere all around, but Marty walks with proud expertise through it all.

The wind picks up, prickles Doc's skin, and - he notices with some embarrassment - Marty's as well. Marty tugs the man left, leading them through an abandoned back yard.

"So you were," Doc pauses to process the inconceivable information he's pieced together, "fifteen years old when we...became intimate. And people  _know_?"

Marty laughs, nonchalant, swipes a thumb over the top of Doc's hand.

"Well why do you think you were committed?"

Doc is silent and shakes his head, eyes wide, and suddenly highly judgmental of his other self.

"Listen, he did it to get at  _me_...But I tried to stop him, believe me." Marty sounds remorseful now, the last of his cheerfulness dripping away as he continues. "Biff, I mean. But if you're worried about being seen, I don't think anybody remembers you now." He adds as an afterthought, "Just Biff's gang. But if they find out you've flown the coop, they'll be looking for you."

He gives Doc's hand a squeeze, which is actually welcome, given the news.

"Don't worry, Doc, I'm on the run too," he smiles. "Got kicked out of boarding school and the old man's  _pissed_."

"Marty," Doc drawls, scolds, "Didn't I always tell you your academics were important? That you just had to put your mind to it and you could do anything?" He holds his breath, then, and regrets to think that this timeline's Emmett Brown could very well have never said that at all.

"Well, when you were sent away, I put my mind to some heavy drinking," Marty scoffs, nearly tripping over some old rusted tools on the ground. "But whatever. We're here!"

The garage stands weakly in the middle of the broken-down neighbourhood: broken windows boarded up, graffiti on the paneling, smashed bottles, weathered tools and trash scattered around the premises. The back door to Doc's garage is technically locked, but he watches Marty pick the lock with ease and he's ushered inside. The place seems more cluttered than ever - no longer an organized chaos - but also incredibly empty. Most of Doc's bigger, flashier experiments are gone, probably having been stolen. There's no heat, fewer clocks...no Einstein.

Marty secures the door behind them with a deadbolt and sliding chain lock, then turns. Back pressed against the door, he lets out a long, wistful sigh.

"So here we are again, Doc!" Marty beams and runs past the scientist to the makeshift bed tucked away in one corner of the room. Covered in torn old clothes, blankets, papers and ash, it creaks and shifts when Marty throws himself on to it playfully. Waving a plume of dust away, the boy stretches and pats the bed gently.

"Let's celebrate," he coos.

And well, there it is. The thing that Doc had assumed would logically have to happen given Emmett Brown's history with young Marty McFly in this timeline.

"Ah," Doc shuffles about, trying to buy some time with excuses, "I don't think that's a good idea, Marty. I mean," he coughs, "I can't stay here for long if people are going to come looking for me. Wouldn't my garage be the first place they look?"

Marty squints, eyes his friend questioningly. Doc notices that that's a trend tonight; is he really so easy here?

"Come on, Doc. It won't take  _that_  long." He begins to wrestle his shirt off and adds sharply, "It never used to."

Marty balls his shirt up and places it behind him on the bed for leverage; lays back propped up on his elbows. He looks hopefully onward at Doctor Emmett Brown of 1985, née 1985A, crooked grin on his face. He spreads his legs and traces a finger over the button of his fly, and those impish blue eyes turn dark with lust.

Doc coughs again, swipes a finger along a shelf bracket to collect the dust from it. Frowns. Buys time by humming and hawing over some punk's graffiti tag on his framed doctorate.

"You're killin' me, Doc..."

The kid is a beacon of light in the dark, dingy mess of Doc's lab. Here, on what used to pass for a bed, amid the disarray of crumpled papers, oil cans and rusted tools, is this bright kid who wants him. Eager to please; is coaxing him to sit down; is making eyes at him in a way that Doc never imagined Marty could, forget that big bruise on the left side of his face.

But inside, Doc is positively panicking. He's worried that Marty -  _his_  Marty - is out there in this Hell Valley, taking the brunt of the abuse from Biff that  _this_  Marty would be taking for getting kicked out of school.

He worries.

But then he sits on the bed.

Marty is overjoyed; giggles and pushes Doc back against the blanket he's flattened out over the mattress. Tenderly - however hesitantly - they kiss.

Marty does all the work.


	2. Chapter 2

A wave of regret rolls through Doc before they've even done anything. On his end, anyway.

Marty's been pushing his tongue inside of Doc's mouth, running it along Doc's teeth and flicking against the roof of his mouth - anything to get a reaction - but Doc hasn't reciprocated. Marty's been unbuttoning Doc's shirt, letting his hands scratch through the man's chest hair, but Doc hasn't touched Marty once. The boy's hard; he unzips his fly and grinds his hips into Doc's.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me," Marty turns red with frustration and embarrassment. "This isn't exactly how I pictured a reunion. You haven't forgotten how to do it, have you?" he taunts snidely.

"N-no."

Marty looks on with half-lidded eyes, skeptical. It's getting harder for him to keep up the confidence.

"Don't you want me anymore? Give me something to work with, here."

He leans forward so that he's completely on top of the older man; kisses his cheek, his neck, his collarbone...The man beneath him gasps softly, and Marty feels triumphant; closes his eyes and grins.

"Tell me," Doc starts quietly, "this isn't illegal here?"

Marty balks at the question. "Not here...You _know_ Biff changed the law so that he could mess around. What a sleaze, right?" He brushes a hand through his hair. "They give you any weird drugs in that hospital, Doc? I feel like I'm talking to a stranger..."

He sits squarely in Doc's lap, wriggles in his seat, brushes his hands up and down the man's sides. The reception is a little more favourable now, Doc's will diminishing with every second that passes, every little roll of hips. He's bashful, and he's a little bit embarrassed, but tempted. It's been a while, after all, and finally he pushes back against the boy. Marty licks his lips.

"Let's try again, Doc."

The boy presses his mouth to Doc's, soft pouty lips against old chapped ones, tongue slipping against tongue, soft guttural moans coming from both parties. Marty reaches down to pin one of Doc's hands to the mattress, locking fingers and squeezing in an attempt to show his appreciation for finally giving in.

One of Doc's hands slides up to Marty's ass; slips under the waistband of his jeans and under the band of his underwear.

Marty exhales loudly and moves his hips faster. He pants; he's so hard, and he can feel good, kind, honest Doc Brown's growing erection underneath him now too.

"I messed around with other guys while you were gone," the boy confesses, breathy. "Made a few bucks. Does that make you mad?"

Doc stares at him like a hawk; tries to comprehend what this Marty's life is like, tries to comprehend what this Marty wants him to say. What this timeline's Emmett Brown would say regardless of what his Marty wants.

"...Furious," he tries, and Marty grins. He flops on to his back beside Doc and urges him to climb on top.

"Then hurry...Give me my punishment."

On shaky hands and knees, Doc's above him. He looks around absently for - what? - lubricant? Marty rolls his eyes. He licks his fingers and preps his entrance with saliva, then slathers his fingers again and runs his hand over his friend's cock. It's a cold sensation, but wonderful, and Doc huffs, biting his lip just to keep his thoughts straight. He lifts Marty's legs up - up to his shoulders like he would a woman - and pushes forward.

Marty clenches his teeth and doesn't make a sound as the man enters him. In to the hilt, Doc stops and looks to the boy for reassurance. "Ahh," Marty lets out a shaky sigh as he opens his eyes.

He grins; bucks against Doc, making him gasp sinfully. "Move."

And Doc obliges. The first thrusts in and out are heavenly - feelings intense and foreign - and the ungodly creaking of the bed only adds to the devious pleasure of it all. The kid's murmurs sound so sweet now, and encouraging rather than condescending.

Familiar and intimate, Marty half-whispers, "I missed you so much."

Marty runs his hands up Doc's stomach to rest on his shoulders. His pants getting deeper, harder, much more desperate than before, and the pace isn't all that fast, but boy are there sparks flying in the old man's eyes. There are tears in Marty's.

They move slightly with Marty's ankles pushed back now, almost reaching his own shoulders, and every thrust is deeper, so much more satisfying. Marty claws at Doc's back, bites down on the man's shoulder when he gets close enough. Doc pounds into him as fast as he can, milking this for all it's worth, and Marty clings at the blankets, bucking fruitlessly under Doc's weight.

"Oh, god! Doc!"

Marty wails and chokes on more "Ahs" and "Gods" as Doc pushes into him again and again, relentlessly. Doc's breathing quickens and Marty can feel him balling the sheets into his fists on either side of him.

The pressure against his prostate causes Marty reaches between them to jerk himself off, to flinch into orgasm, spilling strands of sticky white on to his stomach.

It takes Doc a couple minutes longer to finish, but when he cums, he juts into Marty - grabs his hips hard - and rasps the boy's name desperately into the air.

As the two let the damp covers cool beneath them, Doc gives Marty what he hopes doesn't feel like an obligatory kiss. The garage is silent, save for the fleeting sound of sirens outside.

There's no time for afterglow.

 

*********************

 

Marty lies naked on the bed, stretches; sighs and watches bemused as his partner quickly throws his pants on. His foot gets tangled in a pant leg and throws him off balance; he topples back on to the bed beside Marty. Smiles. Hell, he's still hot with embarrassment, but he's happy - in a way - to be able to share this moment with this alternate version of his best friend. Lord knows he would never take advantage of the  _real_  Marty McFly.

"Happy now, kid?" He asks.

Marty closes his eyes and nods, smirks grimly.

"I'm glad you found me, Doc."

"Well," the man replies, "you found  _me_."

He stretches and sits back up, pulls his undershirt down to tuck into his slacks. Marty pokes Doc in the side, lifting the same undershirt up as it's being pulled down.

"What's the rush, Doc? You got somewhere to be?" Marty has that same, hopelessly lost and confused look in his eyes as he did when he'd noticed Doc not responding favourably to his advances. He pains Doc's heart to see it, but it can't be helped.

"We've been here long enough" He tries. "I-- we, should go."

He makes to stand up but Marty catches his wrist and holds him in place. "Stay. Catch up with me. What was the crazy house like?" He props himself up on his knees beside the man like an expectant puppy. "Hey-- ask me anything!"

Doc exhales in a shaky breath; does have some questions. He brushes the boy off and fumbles with the tiny buttons on his shirt.

"You're well acquainted with Biff Tannen." It comes as more of a statement, but it's a question just the same. He leans back, his clothed chest covered now by Marty's naked one.

"Yeah, well...he's my dad--  _step dad_. How much don't you remember?"

"But what happened to your father? Where's George McFly?"

Marty smiles sadly against the man's chest, runs one hand down soft cotton and cradles Doc's head with the other. He places a kiss to Doc's temple and faces the man again with squinted eyes, lets the silence ring in his ears. 

"He's dead, Doc. But I never really got a chance to know him before he was shot, anyway." Doc looks at him, visibly stunned, so Marty continues plainly. "My father's in the same place he's been for the past twelve years...Oak Park Cemetery."

Doc bolts upright. For the first time since finding himself in this godforsaken town he's acutely aware of how very different and wrong this timeline is, not just superficially. He can hear this 1985's Marty saying his name, confused and annoyed, behind him, but it's fuzzy. In this moment he can only concentrate on the future.

He knows where Marty -  _his_  Marty will be.

"Great Scott! I-- I have to go."

As Doc jumps to his feet, Marty curls himself up on the bed, lights up a cigarette and brushes a hand through his hair. He looks frustrated, abandoned. it pulls at Doc, leaving the boy naked on the bed in that cold rundown garage, but it doesn't leave him half as guilty as he feels when he finds Marty toppled over, kneeling at the grave of George McFly, babbling "No, oh please God, no...No, this can't be happening! This can't be happening! This can't be--"

Doc stumbles through the darkness, crunching leaves and twigs as he walks. He stands behind a Marty much less battered and bruised.

"I'm afraid it is happening Marty," Doc states, blunt and regretful. "All of it."

Marty turns, visibly distraught. "Doc!"

Doc ushers the boy to the nearby DeLorean, with a hand on his shoulder. It's warm - and funny how he doesn't feel awkward at all about the events of the evening. Just out of place.

And everything will work itself out because it has to.

Einstein whines and wind rustles leaves on the ground as the two drive off in silence to figure out the future.


End file.
